


if I could rewrite our story

by Ms_Hellion



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Language of Flowers, Love Confessions, M/M, Or Is It?, Post-デュラララ!!×２ 結 | Durarara!!x2 Ketsu, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Hellion/pseuds/Ms_Hellion
Summary: “There’s no use regretting what’s done, Shizu-chan. Past events are permanently woven into the fabric of the necessary state of things that humans refer to as ‘reality’. Besides…”Izaya’s voice breaks off as he hesitates, if only for a second. When he continues, it’s not without a note of regret.“Besides, can’t you see? All of this is long gone.”In a lonely Tokyo cemetery, a new grave has recently made its appearance.
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

“ _IIII-ZAAA-YAAAAA!”_

“ _Do it, you monster.”_

_Fire rages all around them, the dangerous blaze reflected in a thousand silvery blades. The air is thin, yet it’s able to obstruct Shizuo’s airways, squeezing his throat in an invisible grip._

_Darkness slithers through the flames in tendrils of smoke, which soon turn into a tidal wave, erasing everything under a dark blanket, annihilating wrath and life and death. It all disappears beside those blades. Beside that smile._

_The ruin and the senseless devastation give way to a familiar scene. Before him, a slender figure bleeds, almost crumpled up on itself for the pain._

_Fists always effortlessly dodged finally land._

_Delicate bones snap like twigs._

_A thousand blades shine in the night, and each of them brings in itself a red glow._

“ _Do it, you monster.”_

_Shizuo’s hand tightens around an object made of plastic and metal. It’d be impossible for anyone to lift, but to him it’s little more than paper, his fingers sinking with ease, twisting the hard material._

“ _Do it, you monster.”_

_Shizuo lifts the vending machine high in the air._

_This time, there is no sudden light._

_Vorona never intervenes._

_The vending machine lands with a bloodcurdling crash, and Izaya is gone from sight. It’s a matter of seconds before a thick, red halo is forming around the twisted wreck._

_It grows wider and wider, and when Shizuo lowers his gaze, the red sea is already lapping his feet. Except that it isn’t blood._

_They’re petals._

_Shizuo can’t look away. From the blood, under his stare, thousands and thousands of red flowers bloom._

  
  


. . .

  
  


An ocean of red flowers swished quietly in the wind, just outside of the cemetery walls. On the other side of the pale barrier, a handful of flowers crowded together against the wall, yearning in vain to reunite with their kind, by human hand forever divided.

A single flower was held between the fingers of the same cruel hand which had firstly ripped it out.

It was a red spider lily; kind of a predictable flower to find in a cemetery, and the fact that it had been plucked in a hurry right outside the low walls, as an afterthought, didn’t make it better.

Still, it was better than nothing, Shizuo thought to himself. Showing up empty-handed would’ve been rude, no matter who the deceased was.

_Deceased._

Shizuo quickly averted his eyes from the flower. It made him uncomfortable, and not just because of the folkloric connection between those lilies and death. He couldn’t stand the sight of its color.

He hurriedly placed it onto the graveled ground before the headstone, its crimson petals forming a single ~~blood~~ color stain on the otherwise bare grave. And still it remained a miserable sight compared to the graves nearby, adorned with colorful flowers and candles lit by the deceased’s loved ones. _By people who cared._

But not this grave – no, this one was allowed only one flower, plucked in a hurry, as an afterthought.

“It’s not much to pay my respects, is it?”, mumbled Shizuo. “Ah… sorry. I’ll bring something better next time.”

The words came as a surprise to his own ears. Until that moment, he didn’t even know there would be a next time, and now he’d just promised he would pay to decorate a grave which humanity as a whole seemed to be indifferent to; truly ironic how the one who laid in that ground had once given all of his attention and energy to aforementioned humanity – showing his love in the most unconventional way.

“That’s why you’re here”, Shizuo told him. Traces of an old fury stirred in his veins, barely a spark compared to the unstoppable fire it used to be. “If you weren’t such a bastard, things would’ve gone differently.”

As he spoke, the faint flames were already dying out, and again it was ice that ran inside him, a numbness Shizuo had already gotten used to.

It happened a lot, lately. At first it was just an undefined emptiness, taking the place of the peace he’d felt ever since Ikebukuro had become his, and only his. Tom believed it was good, had even congratulated him for finally taming the fire in his blood. Shizuo had shrugged noncommittally at that, not giving the topic so much as a second thought.

It had gotten worse, though, since he found out that _he_ was there.

Since Simon pulled him aside and told him: “It is time to leave resentment behind, Shi-zu-o. Forget hate. Hate gone now.”

But _he_ hadn’t gone anywhere. He was there, he’d been there for months.

Explained why he’d never come back to Ikebukuro.

“Looks like I’ve finally made it, huh?” He swallowed, attempted a smile. “I’ve finally managed to keep you out of ‘Bukuro. Damned bastard, you’ll never set foot in my city again.”

The blond swallowed again, and for one second it felt as if he was still there, down on his knees in a construction site, choking and gasping for air. Shizuo almost believed he was still down there, for his throat was locked in an invisible hold.

Again his gaze was drawn towards the lily.

Red petals.

Red eyes.

Red blood.

_I need to get out of here._

“I’ll be back”, he managed to say.

Of course he’d be back, he’d promised. Heiwajima Shizuo was a monster, but not a liar. He kept his promises.

“Just like I promised to kill you… didn’t I, Izaya?

For the first time since the day they met, Izaya didn’t offer any replies.

There was no answer but an unbearable silence and the distant rustle of an ocean of flowers.

  
  


. . .

  
  


_Shizuo falls on his knees, his breaths rasping and desperate._

_His lungs are begging for a gulp of air, and Shizuo claws with fury at the concrete as he feels them burn, the once unstoppable body now weakened, unable to perform a task as simple as breathing._

_From the top of the building under construction, Shizuo watches himself writhe in agony._

“ _I really did cross the line this time, didn’t I?”_

_Izaya is sitting next to him, swinging his legs in the void while he observes the scene with great attention._

_He’s exactly how Shizuo remembers him, from the silky raven hair down to that beloved fur trimmed jacket of his; still he finds a discrepancy on his face, where the old mischievous grin, so vivid in the blond’s memories, is entirely absent._

_Even when Izaya finally does twist his mouth into a smile, the gesture carries an unmistakable tinge of bitterness._

“ _I suppose the consequences cannot be helped.”_

_Shizuo swallows against the tightness in his throat, and while this time it isn’t caused by the poisonous gas, the blond thinks that chocking on his own breath wouldn’t feel half as painful._

_He looks at Izaya as though he could stop time with the sole force of his stare, as though simple willpower was enough to preserve the raven from what is about to happen._

_Izaya seems to misinterpret his look, because his expression becomes imperceptibly softer._

“ _Relax”, the raven says, gesturing at the scene below. “You’re not going to die. Any second you will get up and come to finish me off.”_

_Shizuo knows this, and he thinks Izaya must be crazy to stay with him when he should just run as far as possible while he still has time. He thinks that, for all of Izaya’s intelligence, the flea is in a way more naïve and reckless than a child._

“ _Why are you here?”_

_Izaya gives him a half smile. “What, am I not allowed to visit an old enemy?”, he teases, but Shizuo shakes his head._

“ _Why are you_ here _?”, he repeats, motioning at the version of himself that’s still gasping on the ground, at the construction site around them. “Right here. Right now. What are you doing, Izaya?”_

_Izaya looks down, and something about his expression makes Shizuo suddenly afraid that he might jump._

But he doesn’t need to.

I will drag him down myself.

_The raven smiles as though he could hear him, but his gaze is heavy with the burden of a lifelong sadness._

“ _I’m writing the final act of a tragedy.”_

_The body on the ground isn’t Shizuo’s anymore – it’s Izaya, wounded and dying. And next to Shizuo, on the iron beam, Izaya is bleeding, arms unnaturally twisted and mouth full of blood, his cheeks stained red._

_He’s crying tears of blood._

_He doesn’t speak, but Shizuo understands._

_He understands that it hurts. Understands that Izaya doesn’t want to die._

_In the end, broken and bleeding, he’s only human._

He should never have played with a monster.

_Could Shizuo stop that monster, he would. Words cannot express how desperately the debt collector wishes there was a way to stop what’s bound to happen._

_He can feel panic clawing at his chest when he sees the other Shizuo lift a vending machine._

“ _Interesting”, comments Izaya, relaxed, as if his body wasn’t reduced to a heap of misshapen bones and open wounds. “In reality, that vending machine never hits me.”_

“ _It doesn’t need too”, Shizuo mutters._

_The heavy, metallic object falls._

“ _You still die.”_

_The blond lowers his eyes, and under his feet he discovers a red flowerbed. He knows that they bloomed from the blood he shed._ _From_ his _blood. His, out of everyone-_

“ _There’s no use regretting what’s done, Shizu-chan. Past events are permanently woven into the fabric of the necessary state of things that humans refer to as ‘reality’. Besides…” Izaya’s voice breaks off as he hesitates, if only for a second. When he continues, it’s not without a note of regret. “Besides, can’t you see? All of this is long gone.”_

_Izaya’s body shrivels and rots, exposing the bones and the white skull._

_One by one, the flowers turn pale and crumble into ashes._

  
  


. . .

  
  


Shizuo couldn’t sleep.

Whenever the debt collector closed his eyes, _he_ was there, his body horribly mangled and his lips curved into a sad smile that Shizuo was sure Izaya had never shown him back when he was alive; and yet it made up a startlingly vivid picture.

Not that Shizuo needed to see him in order to remember. He could still feel under his knuckles the reverberation of a violent impact against thin arms, or hear the distinct snap of bones giving in to the pressure.

However it didn’t help that he would all too often startle awake in the middle of the night, hyperventilating and terrified, wondering, _What if Izaya’s wounds were too bad? What if he didn’t make it?_ , just to feel crushed as soon as his panicked mind was lucid enough to remember the truth.

He was a murderer.

The sleep deprivation, of course, directly affected his mood – _or was it rather the awareness of what he’d done? Was it the overwhelming guilt, carefully repressed ever since that fateful night, stirred up by the evidence of a bare grave?_ – and therefore his job. He was gloomy, irritable and unreasonably angry, more so than he’d been in months.

Tom asked him repeatedly if he was feeling okay.

“You don’t look so good, man”, he told him.

The blond dismissed the other’s worry with a shrug. “I must be getting the flu or something”, he mumbled. He didn’t like lying to his senpai, but really, he didn’t know what else to say.

Tom didn’t know anything.

Tom still thought he was a good person.

He believed him.

But Celty did not.

She knew.

A single glance to his face, and the Dullahan had figured it out.

[ _You went to see him, didn’t you?_ ]

It was late in the evening, and the two of them were near a park. Shizuo was leaning against a railing, smoking the last cigarette from the package. Those days, he went through them like crazy.

Shizuo was too ashamed to even look at her. That was answer enough for the Dullahan.

Celty leaned forward from where she sat on her bike so that lowered brown eyes were forced to meet the screen of her PDA.

[ _It wasn’t your fault._ ]

Shizuo smiled bitterly. Celty could read him so well…

At the same time, it was baffling how the Dullahan didn’t seem to get him at all.

“It was me, Celty. I did it.”

[ _You had no other choice! Izaya attacked you first, remember?_ ], she typed, almost indignant. [ _It was self-defense!_ ]

“Yes, it _was_ self-defense, up to the moment I threw him off that beam”, Shizuo corrected her, voice soft yet bitter as gall. “He was already beaten, I didn’t need to hunt him down like that. I didn’t need to-” He stopped, words stolen by a painful squeeze in his chest.

Scenes from that night flashed before his eyes.

_His body shaking with fury._

_Fists finally landing, breaking fragile bones in half._

_Blood red eyes narrowed for the pain._

_One last, challenging smile forming on bloody lips._

“ _Do it, you monster.”_

The Dullahan’s next message was typed carefully.

[ _I am still convinced that Izaya ended up reaping what he sowed. But, regardless of how it happened… Izaya is gone, Shizuo. For your own good, you need to let him go. Once and for all._ ]

Shizuo sighed heavily. Smoke slipped out his lips and climbed in colorless curls towards the night sky, only to be blown away by the wind. Were it not for the smell still lingering in the air, nobody could’ve known it was ever even there.

“Not yet.” Before Celty could protest, he added: “I still have unfinished business with him. I just… need some time to sort a few things out before I can let him go.”

[ _Shizuo…_ ] Celty hesitated. After a moment, her shoulders dropped in a silent sigh. [ _Do what you have to. Just, don’t forget to live with the living_.]

Shizuo made an effort to smile reassuringly.

He flicked the cigarette lightly with his thumb, and his attention was drawn to the movement of the falling ash. Just like his dream…

In that dream, Izaya and he had finally managed to have a civil conversation, had they not?

Even though it was nothing more than fantasy…

“I’ve got some things left to sort out”, he repeated. “Plus, I have to visit the flea again anyway.”

After throwing the cigarette butt to the ground, he moved as if to crush it – only to change his mind at the last second.

He sighed.

“I made a promise after all.”

  
  


. . .

  
  


This time, it was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums that the blond set down on the cold ground.

The flowers were aesthetically pleasing, fresh and accurately trimmed, tied together with a ribbon, appropriate for a cemetery. Despite that, Shizuo could imagine the raven’s reaction all too well.

“ _White chrysanthemums, Shizu-chan? Really? Booo-ring.”_

“Shut up, flea”, he muttered, the insult falling easily from his lips. “I _paid_ for that.”

As expected, Izaya mocked him, calling him poor and a failure – but for once, Shizuo didn’t get pissed. In the back of his mind, the raven offered him the same sly smile that used to drive him crazy, but Shizuo simply let him laugh.

The flea was right, anyway; the chrysanthemums were a cheap choice, an easy one under many aspects – of course Izaya, the least _easy_ person Shizuo had ever known, wouldn’t like it.

_Still better than nothing_ , he thought, noticing yet again how no one else had bothered to pay respects. He wondered if maybe Mairu and Kururi weren’t aware that their big brother was there – then again, the Orihara siblings’ relationship had never been exactly affectionate.

And it wasn’t just them.

Nobody harbored any kind of positive feelings for the man. The entirety of Ikebukuro would have rejoiced at the news of his passing.

Shizuo’s heart clenched painfully.

“Sorry”, he said without thinking. “I’ll get you something better next time.”

Something better… but why?

He shook his head, pondering his own words, confused.

Did Izaya even deserve better?

_Then, what do I deserve?_

If there was a God, Shizuo was sure that one day Izaya and him would meet again in hell. Maybe then, ironically, they would be finally done hurting each other.

Creases formed at the corners of his mouth.

“ _I’ve got some things left to sort out.”_

His own words, spoken to Celty.

God knew how true they were.

He allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and suck in a deep breath.

“Hey, Izaya…” Shizuo opened his eyes, looking straight at the name on the tombstone. In some corner of his mind, a crimson glint flickered in answer.

It was just the two of them, now. The cemetery was empty, not a sign of human presence for as far as he could see.

Around them, nothing but silence.

In the distance, only the rustle of a field of lilies.

“I didn’t want it to end like this. I didn’t _think_ it would end like this. Not really.”

_You were never supposed to die._

Shizuo took a shuddering breath, and if he curled the corners of his mouth upwards in the pale imitation of a smile, it was only to oppose the weight pulling them downwards.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I know I went too far, but you too-” Shizuo stopped abruptly. No, he couldn’t blame the flea, what the fuck was wrong with him? “I’m sorry”, he said again.

“You know… it wasn’t all bad. That- that thing between us.” He snorted. “Don’t get me wrong. I hated you. I hated you with my whole being, hated you till it consumed me.”

Hell, sometimes he hated until it was the only thing left. Until Izaya was all that mattered.

On some level, the flea still was all that mattered, wasn’t he?

Shizuo tore his gaze away, looking into the distance. The twist of his mouth was nothing but a grimace of bitterness and pain, albeit someone who didn’t know any better might’ve called it nostalgia.

“In a way, you were my only certainty.”

It was so exquisitely ironic, how the very one he’d always tried to get rid of was also the only steady thing in his mess of a life… until he wasn’t. But it was just because it wasn’t like that anymore that the blond had finally realized it.

Shizuo could feel his hands shake at the thought and laugh well up his throat, till all of a sudden the raven’s hysterical bursts of laughter didn’t seem so strange anymore.

How was he _not_ supposed to laugh, when his whole life was a fucking comedy?

Ah, but perhaps Izaya would’ve used a different word.

“ _I’m writing the last act of a tragedy.”_

But the blond knew, they had written that last act together.

“It’s so weird, you know? Every time I hear someone laugh in the streets, a part of me expects you to pop out at any moment, to just… appear out of thin air with that stupid jacket of yours and those bloody knives… until I remember that’s not gonna happen anymore.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I should be happy. I always said I was gonna kill you and- okay, no.” He grimaced. “No way I could be happy to have taken a life. But neither should it make me feel like this, like- like there’s this boulder on my chest, and it’s pressing down whenever I try to breathe.”

He shook his head, smiling shakily, and fuck, why were his eyes burning like that?

“It hurts, okay? It fucking hurts”, he said, the admission coming easily now that no one could hear him. “Fuck knows why it hurts so goddamn much. And it’s even worse knowing that this, all of this? It’s on me.”

Shizuo quickly ran a hand over his face, wishing that his eyes would stop burning for a damned moment. Then he could think so much better, maybe talk without that slight tremor.

But no such luck.

He almost smiled as he understood why.

“Ah… Is this what it feels like to mourn someone? What a shitty feeling.”

Covering his eyes, the blond took a deep breath, then two, three, just trying to breathe, breathe and fight the horrible pressure at the back of his throat. When he didn’t feel like he was on the verge of falling apart anymore, Shizuo lowered his hand and shot a glare at the familiar name.

“You know right that you’re an ass for making me feel like this. Tch, seriously, you piss me off.”

_You piss me off._

The first words he ever told the flea.

Some things never changed, huh?

Shizuo lifted his face towards the cloudy sky. “It’s getting late”, he noticed, talking to nobody in particular. His gaze wandered to the darkest corners of the gray vault. “I’d better get going.”

Suddenly he frowned, feeling a sort of prickling sensation at the nape of his neck. The debt collector felt himself becoming alert to his surroundings as his senses heightened and a shiver ran down his spine.

Logically speaking, he knew the cemetery was empty. And yet he felt as though…

…someone was watching him.

He turned-

Meeting a pair of russet eyes.

“ _Meow._ ”

Shizuo exhaled, the tension leaving his body.

A few feet away, a black cat was watching him, head slightly tilted to the side.

“ _Meow._ ”

“Meow to you too”, he replied with a sigh.

For a crazy moment there he really thought…

But no; although the eye color of the cat was fairly similar to the flea’s, there wasn’t even a shred of the well-known, all too sharp intelligence in those orbs.

He froze.

Did he just- compare the flea to a cat?

_Fuck, I’m really going nuts._

“ _Meow_ ”, said the cat again, before turning his tail to him and walking away, clearly unsatisfied with the blond.

“Good kitty. Run from the monster while you can”, Shizuo muttered.

Hands in his pockets, he headed towards the iron gate.

The blond’s shoulders were slumped as he left the cemetery, dragging his feet, weighted down by a weariness so deep he could feel it in his bones.

  
  


Deep in thought, the man remained unaware of the hidden silhouette whose eyes followed him from the shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely humans! (*＾წ＾*)  
> As I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, English isn’t my mother tongue… Uhm, I hope I didn’t butcher the language too badly?  
> If I did, you’ll have to find me and lock me up to stop me from committing this nefarious crime again! xD (seriously though, let me know if you think I should just give up and learn another language altogether lol)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, because chapter 2 is coming soon!
> 
> Thank you for reading!（*＾＾*)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there folks!  
> Here we go with the second and last chapter…
> 
> At the end of the chapter you will find the meaning of the flowers that are mentioned in the story.
> 
> Enjoy~ (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Slowly but steadily, the frequency and the duration of the visits increased, and before Shizuo even knew it, it had turned into some sort of routine, to the point that it was unusual for him to not show up at least once a week.

It wasn’t that he wanted to visit the flea. Sure, someone had to, and Shizuo just happened to be the only one who was willing to bother.

But more importantly, he had a promise to keep. It led him back time after time, each time bringing a different type of flowers and different words of apology, thinking _Maybe this will satisfy him_ and _maybe it’ll finally be enough_.

Of course, he knew that wasn’t actually going to happen.

Not that time, nor the next.

Izaya would always find a reason to criticize and reject his offering.

It wasn’t good enough, not felt enough.

Celty didn’t get it – but that was fine, because sometimes Shizuo wasn’t sure he understood it himself.

[ _Izaya doesn’t have any opinion anymore, Shizuo!_ ], she told him when her usual tact was outweighed by concern, and how could the blond explain to her the way he still felt those red eyes on him, burning holes through his back?

How could Shizuo put into words the feeling he got at times at the cemetery, when he sensed Izaya’s presence so clearly, the raven might as well have been right behind him?

[ _Have you ever considered that you might be looking for excuses to go back?_ ]

“Why would I do that?”, said Shizuo, confused. No, he was just doing it because he still hadn’t found the offering that would make the flea happy, Shizuo tried to explain for the umpteenth time.

Celty was careful in the way she posed the following question.

[ _Shizuo… what if you are the one who doesn’t feel like anything of what you’re doing is ever enough?_ ]

The blond opened his mouth to reply. Nothing came out.

Eventually, he mumbled: “You don’t understand.”

[ _I think I do. I think you should talk to Shinra. How long has it been since you last had a proper night’s sleep?_ ]

Shizuo wanted to reply, but once again he found himself unable to.

He couldn’t have. He didn’t know the answer.

Despite being used since childhood to getting at least eight hours sleep per night, he had now lost count of how many nights in a row he’d startled awake at the crack of dawn, covered in sweat, his heart racing, while before his eyes flashed all too neat images that would haunt him for the rest of the day.

In some way, going to the cemetery was a relief. The truth of that grave was cold and unchanging – there were no illusions, no visions of alternative courses of the events nor thousands of different possibilities. Only a still, silent grave.

That is not to say it was easy, far from it. Yet the blond much preferred it to the anguish that came with the uncertainty – preferred it to the crazy voice inside his head refusing to accept the reality of Izaya’s passing, because the flea couldn’t be gone just like that, not _just like that_.

Which was why Shizuo always made sure to look straight at the name carved into the headstone, and why, in front of that grave, he tried his best not to hide any of his thoughts and feelings, especially when reliving the moments leading to that fateful night.

Anything to accept the cold reality.

Perhaps Celty was right to believe he kept on coming back for selfish reasons.

In the end he did have Shinra prescribe him something, as the sleep loss was starting to have serious repercussions on his daily activities. Sleeping pills – but Shizuo suspected there might’ve been something more inside those bottles. Had they been just sleeping pills, Shinra wouldn’t have insisted he keep track of his mood changes as well as appetite and concentration, right?

Oh well… who cared anyway. It wasn’t like Shizuo could comprehend the brainy terms on the labels – it wasn’t like he could be bothered to read them in the first place, as if following Shinra’s instructions on how and when to take them wasn’t hard enough.

While his mood mostly remained the same, the sleeping pills did allow him to sleep uninterruptedly through the night.

They didn’t stop the nightmares, though.

  
  


. . .

  
  


“ _Sit with me”, Izaya says, patting the ground next to him._

_Shizuo immediately knows that this is going to be one of those dream. Not the ones where he’s forced to kill the raven over and over. Worse. It’s one of the dreams where they get along._

_The blond recognizes their surroundings as the rooftop of their old school, the sky blue and endless above them, mirroring the color of the uniform he’s wearing, while creating a strong contrast with Izaya’s black and red clothes. The blond’s stomach flips at the sight of the flea like he was back then._

_Shizuo sits down beside him, letting his legs dangle in the air, and he looks down._

_It’s them – young and foolish and entitled, on a ravaged soccer field. Shinra is talking, moving his lips and glancing at the raven on his right. The aforementioned raven shakes his head, smiles, almost winks at Shizuo._

_Shizuo knows what comes after._

_Sure enough, the first punch is thrown – by him._

_Shizuo frowns, trying to remember the reasons that caused him to react like that in the first place. He can’t find any, other than a strong, immediate dislike, an aversion to red eyes and a sly smile._

_What a lousy excuse, in hindsight._

“ _If we had been different when we met… if I hadn’t attacked you… do you think we could have gotten along?”_

_Beside him, Izaya has reverted to his adult appearance – but the carefree, rebellious grin he flashes at Shizuo is straight out of his teenage years._

“ _If, if, if. Don’t you know overthinking is_ my _job?” The raven leans forwards to flick the other on the forehead, and Shizuo is reminded abruptly of how Izaya used to call him a protozoan. “There is no use regretting the past.”_

“ _You said that already”, mumbles the blond. “I still feel like shit, though.”_

_Izaya hums thoughtfully. “Good. You should, after managing to ruin my plans yet again. I hoped to prove to the world that Heiwajima Shizuo is a monster, but I failed.” He shrugs as though it doesn’t matter – and maybe at this point it really doesn’t._

_He failed, says the flea._

_Shizuo swallows thickly._

“ _Then why do I feel like this?”_

_Izaya raises an eyebrow, giving him a look. “You know why. You deem yourself honest, yes? Then have the courage to be honest to yourself, Shizu-chan”, he scolds the other lightly in a nearly sing song voice._

_But Shizuo shakes his head._

“ _Courage?” The word has a bitter taste in the mouth. “I don’t have any. Let’s fucking face it, whenever I do something ‘brave’, ninety-nine percent of the time I’m just relying on my monstruous strength.”_

I can’t even face myself.

_But Izaya seems to be of a different opinion as the next moment his bony fingers are cradling Shizuo’s face._

_The blond is shocked to find them warm,_ alive _, so solid against his cheeks that, for a second, he truly believes Izaya is there, right in front of him. He thinks he can smell him, and the familiar scent more than anything almost brings him to the brink of tears._

_When Izaya speaks, it’s with a playful undertone Shizuo hasn’t heard in ages._

“ _I’ll have faith in that one percent, then.”_

_Shizuo snorts in spite of everything. Then he sighs, reveling in the warmth of those hands. He knows he’s about to wake up, and just wishes to draw out the comforting sensation for as long as possible._

I’m sorry.

“ _Shizu-chan.”_

Sorry.

“ _Shizu-chan, come see me tomorrow night.”_

I miss you…

“ _Can you hear me, Shizu-chan?”_

“ _Yes…”, he sighs._

_He doesn’t want to wake up._

Nothing feels right without you.

“ _Come see me tomorrow night. Come to the cemetery after sunset. Do you think you can do this for me?”_

_He’ll do anything, Shizuo tells him._

“ _Promise?”_

“ _Promise… after sunset…”_

_That’s all it takes for the warmth to leave. Shizuo feels like dying knowing it’s gone forever._

When he opened his eyes, tears were streaming down his face.

  
  


. . .

  
  


The grass swayed gently in the wind.

It produced a quiet whisper, almost imperceptible, easily drowned out, at times, by the muffled noises of Tokyo’s streets. The screech of breaks, a sudden honk, a distant laugh – sounds of life that didn’t belong in the world enclosed by the fields of red spider lilies, painted gray under the silvery light of the moon.

Almost one hour had passed since sunset, since the last, vibrant shade of gold vanished from the sky, albeit traces of the heat of the day still lingered in the air.

The cemetery was technically closed, but whereas entry through the gates was no longer permitted, the white walls remained low and easy to climb over, leaving open the possibility of accessing to the small, secluded universe.

No one, though, would take advantage of that possibility – no one, except for the blond man in the bartender uniform.

Shizuo inhaled deeply, calm where most people would’ve been nervous, maybe scared – why, even? Because it was a cemetery at night? Because of the _ghosts_?

Shizuo appreciated the quietness granted by the late hours, and loneliness did not upset him. As for the ghosts, they really couldn’t be any worse than the monster staring back at him every morning in the mirror.

Not all ghosts would have been unwelcome, anyway.

“Ne, Izaya”, Shizuo began quietly; still his voice echoed like a gunshot in the motionless silence. “I’m here. I came, just like you asked. Well, like dream Izaya asked”, he corrected himself, scratching the back of his head. “Ah… never mind. Doesn’t really matter either way.”

What would have Celty said if she knew he’d sneaked into a cemetery in the middle of the night because Izaya had asked him to in a dream? Shinra, on the other hand, would’ve probably just increased the dosage of whatever the hell he was having him take at the moment.

But Shizuo was there for a reason, something that went beyond Izaya’s demand, while at the same time constituting an answer to another request of the raven.

“ _You deem yourself honest, yes? Then have the courage to be honest to yourself, Shizu-chan.”_

“You were right. I’m not- I haven’t told the whole truth. But I don’t have anything to hide anymore.”

He closed his eyes briefly.

“ _Then why do I feel like this?”_

“ _You know why.”_

_Yeah, I do. I do know why, Izaya._

“I thought I’d be happy if you were gone, but I’m not. I thought I hated you, but I- fuck, Izaya, I got everything wrong. I was _wrong_ , flea… God, we were both so fucking stupid.”

It was so ironic, he felt like crying…

Ah… irony was supposed to make people laugh, wasn’t it?

Except that Shizuo was familiar by now with the fine line between two opposites.

“Flea, I… uhm.” He cleared his throat. “I came here to tell you something important, but you know I suck with words. ‘Cause I’m a protozoan, isn’t that right?” The blond chuckled softly. “I’m not even sure what that is”, he admitted.

Oh, Izaya would’ve had a good laugh, calling him an ignorant brute, an amoeba that had slacked off throughout their high school years.

Shizuo rolled his eyes as his imagination filled the silence.

_Yeah, yeah, keep laughing._

“Well, anyhow, we both know I’m better off letting my actions speak for me. So here.”

The bouquet was placed carefully on the gravelly ground. It was modest, tied with a piece of rope Shizuo had found at the bottom of a drawer, nothing he’d needed to spend any money on. He had plucked the flowers himself.

Almost like waning stars, they glowed faintly under the dim white light. Like tears of the firmament fallen right from the sky to the earth, the forget-me-nots had been stripped of their proud blue, retaining in return every bit of elegance, of gracefulness.

They were beautiful, despite having being plucked by oh-so-cruel hands.

They were beautiful, for being so sad.

Shizuo felt his eyes burn.

They were everything he needed to say.

“My grandmother taught me a bit of hanakotoba when I was little. Never thought I was gonna make use of it though. Not like this at any rate.” Shizuo drew a shaky breath. “You know, forget-me-nots are my favorite kind of flowers… which means you’d probably hate them since our tastes are totally different, but-”

His voice broke.

He inhaled deeply.

_Shit._

His eyes stung as if pricked by a hundred needles.

The knot in his throat was becoming unbearable.

The tightness in his chest could have killed him.

Shizuo ran a quick hand over his face.

_Breathe. Just- breathe. Have some decency for fuck’s sake. The flea wouldn’t want to have to see you like this._

After holding his breath for a few seconds, the blond exhaled, slowly.

_Just like this._

_It’s alright now. It’s almost done._

Just a little bit more…

“The other thing I wanted to say is-” Shizuo’s voice cracked, and he repeated: “The other thing I wanted to say is…”

The blond stopped again, his tongue heavy in the mouth.

He had to do this. He had to.

There was nothing else to be done now.

It hurt, but Shizuo knew it to be true. Somehow, the awareness brought him a sort of peace, as painful as withering lilies and gentle as blue wildflowers.

And so he smiled, tears shining in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Izaya.”

“So soon, Shizu-chan?”

That was the moment the world stopped spinning.

The faraway city noises got entirely blocked out.

In the small universe of the cemetery, not a single leaf moved.

The only breathing human being inside those walls stopped doing so.

No… not the only one.

Shizuo turned around so quickly that he almost fell, but he paid no attention to it. Because the man before him… the man before him…

“ _Izaya._ ”

Izaya smiled at him – or rather he lifted the corners of his mouth in an uncertain attempt at a smile.

“Long time no see, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo trembled.

It couldn’t be him. The headstone- the headstone said _Orihara Izaya_. Orihara Izaya rested in that grave.

He was going insane.

He had to be going insane.

Either that, or he was dreaming.

Shizuo didn’t know which one of the two options he thought to be crueler.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”, Izaya teased him with the same, terrible uncertainty in his voice.

Shizuo covered the space between them with few, quick strides. From the corner of his eye he noticed Izaya’s shoulders stiffen, and he thought he saw a gleam of silver be pulled out of the other’s pocket as the flea automatically assumed a defensive stance. Still the blond didn’t slow down, he kept walking till he was right in front of the raven and then-

He threw his arms around the other.

Tears spilled from his eyes, trickling down in silent trails to the tight line of his lips.

Izaya was solid. Izaya was _there_.

The raven was stiff as a board in his arms and Shizuo should’ve counted himself lucky he didn’t have a knife sticking out of his side yet, but who cared?

Izaya was _alive_.

“I thought I’d killed you…”

It was like waking up from a nightmare, and Shizuo’s whisper was nothing but the confession of the crimes committed while in the arms of Morpheus.

Shizuo felt the raven move, hesitant, tentative, and for a moment he waited for a flash of pain to come, consequence of the blade that was surely about to plunge into his back. Instead, all he felt was the light touch of a delicate hand between his shoulder blades.

“Is that so, hmm? Not quite, I’m afraid. I’ll have you know that it’s not so easy to get rid of me. You’re always going on about how I’m so similar to an insect, but have you ever stopped to consider how difficult to kill they are?”, Izaya said, rambling a bit. “Of course, they may seem weak and powerless to someone like you, yet you’d be surprised to realize their true resilience. Flea power and all, I suppose… yay.”

_Yeah, thank God._

Izaya’s body was so warm… Shizuo would’ve never expected it considering how pale and thin the raven was.

All of a sudden he was reminded of a different warmth, around his face. A couple of soft hands touching his cheeks, while he was asked to promise…

“You were there, weren’t you?”, the blond asked. “The other night.”

“Hm-mh.”

Shizuo pulled away from the hug to look Izaya in the eye – who in turn looked right back at him with smoldering intensity.

“How long have you been watching me?”

Izaya shrugged, and Shizuo didn’t miss how jerky and stiff the movement appeared.

“For a while, actually. Think of it as a professional deformation; when I come across an unusual phenomenon, I can’t help but want to study it. Like Heiwajima Shizuo visiting the fake grave of his worst enemy.” Before Shizuo got a chance to speak, Izaya went on: “And about that, I know what you’re going to say: I’m such a horrible person, how could I fool everyone like this, yada yada yada. Seriously, you should try having the yakuza and half of Tokyo on your heels while you’re recovering from broken arms and ribs, a concussion and spine injuries. Trust me, the thought of disappearing for some time will start to appeal to you too.”

Hearing Izaya list the damages his body had suffered, Shizuo felt like he was dying inside.

He studied the man before him, noticing a few things for the first time. Izaya was all angles and bones, even thinner than what Shizuo remembered, his features so sharp it looked as though they could cut. And while Shizuo couldn’t be certain with such poor illumination, he could have sworn the raven was paler too, in a way that made the dark circles under his eyes immediately stand out.

But more than that, it was the raven’s posture that caught his attention, for it was completely wrong. He finally noticed the cane Izaya was leaning heavily on.

Guilt churned in Shizuo’s stomach, sickening and burdensome.

“Sorry about your back.”

Izaya blinked, surprised.

“I must say, I never thought I’d see the day when Shizu-chan would apologize to little old me”, he commented with a slight grin.

Things change, Shizuo told him.

“So it seems. I do find myself curious though as to what brought about such a change.”

Memories from the past weeks streamed through the blond man’s mind. The never-ending days spent in front of a gravestone…

The anguishing dreams…

The conversations with Celty and his friend’s growing worry…

The afternoons in Ikebukuro, when he looked around in search of the familiar shape of a fur trimmed jacket…

The restless pain and numbing apathy…

Shizuo shrugged. “I had some time to think.”

Izaya’s grin broadened and oh, Shizuo knew what was coming. And sure enough…

“Think? You?!” Izaya gasped comically, feigning a shocked expression. “How extraordinary! Revolutionary! Shizu-chan is the first protozoan to ever develop cognitive abilities- ah, but wait, that can’t be. After all Shizu-chan doesn’t even know what a protozoan is! Not that I was expecting Shizu-chan’s pea-sized brain to retain anything of his school education.”

Shizuo felt his face heat up realizing that the flea had listened to his little confession. Of course the bastard would say something like that. He just _knew_ it, goddammit.

A sense of familiarity coursed through him, so intense it brought a fresh bout of wetness to his cheeks. The blond quickly ran a sleeve over his face, not missing the way Izaya omitted to comment on it.

Shizuo made a big show of huffing and turning up his nose with disdain. “Tch. Shut it, smartass. You ever fake your death again and I’ll kill you dead.”

And there he was, the old flea. Izaya jumped at the chance to taunt the blond, mocking him for not making any sense, calling him an amoeba and what-not, all while smirking smugly, eyes twinkling with some of the old familiar mischievousness. And Shizuo – Shizuo didn’t get mad.

He didn’t get mad because the image in front of him was a scene straight from his past, yet from that past it differed completely. It was everything he’d hated for years and mourned for months.

Shizuo didn’t get mad this time around because even though the past cannot be undone, the future is a blank page still waiting to be filled.

Izaya soon took notice of his lack of reaction, taunting him less and less till the two men were just standing in silence, their eyes nowhere else but on each other. There was an unusual tenderness hovering between them, a non-threatening electricity in the air causing the blond to blush lightly.

“Ne, Shizu-chan…”

“What is it?”

Izaya’s gaze fell on the flowers. A hint of sadness bled into his face, an emotion that Shizuo was able to recognized on the raven solely because of his dreams.

Yet there was also something more…

“Did you really mean that?”

_Hope._

“Yeah, I did. I do.”

Izaya’s shoulders jumped as the raven gave the smallest flinch.

“I see…”

A frown carved its way onto Shizuo’s face. Izaya… for a crazy moment, Izaya looked as if he was about to cry. Despite that, when their eyes met again, the raven tugged his lips into a smile.

“Thank you for your honesty.”

Shizuo blinked. “Really? Is that all?”, he said, stupefied.

Not like he expected the other male to return his feelings or anything – hell, he had gotten those flowers in the belief that the raven would have never been able to answer at all.

“I thought you’d make fun of me”, Shizuo admitted.

“Now Shizu-chan, I would never make fun of the love of one of my humans.” Izaya shook his head in disapproval. “Tsk tsk, you really don’t know me well.”

A sincere smile formed on the blond’s lips, the first in months.

“Oh really? Tell me more, then.”

It was Izaya’s turn to smile – and fuck, Shizuo had no idea the man’s true smile could be so beautiful.

“Well, if you insist. Let’s see… how about…”

Izaya leaned forward to brush against Shizuo’s ear with his lips. The words he whispered made the blond’s face turn red up to the tip of his ears.

If that was a dream, he wouldn’t mind not waking up, Shizuo thought with a shiver.

Izaya offered him another breathtaking smile. Then the two men were leaning in, until each one of them could feel the other’s warm puffs of breath tickle their face.

The first kiss was gentle, shy even. The blond’s lips, still salty with tears, brushed softly against Izaya’s, the contact just barely allowing Shizuo to feel a slight tremor run through the other.

He pulled back, analyzing the raven’s face, looking for a hint of uncertainty, of regret. Briefly alarmed when he noticed Izaya’s glistening eyes, Shizuo soon breathed a sigh of relief as he realized he was wrong. Those weren’t tears of regret…

“Is that all you’ve got, Shizu-chan?”, Izaya taunted him lightly with a grin that wanted to be provocative but was betrayed by the pure happiness reflecting on his face.

Shizuo didn’t need a mirror to know he was wearing a matching expression.

“Hah? You didn’t think I was done, right, flea?”

When their mouths met again, it was with a lot more enthusiasm. Izaya put a hand on the blond’s cheek, encouraging Shizuo to wrap an arm around the all too slim waist and pull Izaya flush against his body so as to feel every centimeter of the raven press against him.

They only pulled away after their lungs had started screaming for air, and even then it was a matter of seconds before they were at it again, kissing with fury until their tongues intertwined and they were sighing into each other’s mouth.

They kept at it for more minutes than either of them cared to count, and when eventually they let go of each other, Izaya bent down to draw a single forget-me-not from the bouquet forgotten on the ground. He tucked the flower behind Shizuo’s ear, saying jokingly that at least one belonged to him too.

At that, Shizuo held his breath.

There could be only one explanation for the raven’s words.

He almost didn’t dare believe it but-

It had to mean what he thought it meant. It just had to.

His heart skipped a beat. A second later, Shizuo was kissing the raven for all he was worth.

When the two men finally left the cemetery, they were together. Hand in hand, awkward and shy like teenagers on their first date, they left behind that world of their own, that world of silence and stillness, to plunge back into the incessant hustle we call life. And when a few hours later the sun rose, painting the city gold and the sky in clear shades of blue, it found that they were still together.

  
  


Hanakotoba: language of flowers.

Red spider lily: death, last goodbye.

White chrysanthemum: mourning, honesty.

Forget-me-not: a love that transcends death.

  
  



End file.
